


finders keepers

by reptilianunderwear



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 1920s--30s aesthetic, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Space, M/M, Space Gangsters????? yea, at this point it's all expo, hinata is an alien if that sweetens the pot for anyone, it'll pick up i swear, one-sided kenhina
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 13:00:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6470896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reptilianunderwear/pseuds/reptilianunderwear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Too many colors to make out anything coherent. And no one around him looks like they have any time to be stopped and asked for directions. It looks like they’ll sweep him up in a whirlwind of glitz and color if he tapped someone on the shoulder. He’s like a fish out of water, floundering around on the shore, plucked straight from his element and dropped into a foreign world with too much light and too many colors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	finders keepers

**Author's Note:**

> this is a Space 20s AU. a Space 20s AU. 
> 
> pleas e let me die

The city rises up on all sides of Shouyo, all neon lights and flashing signs, and suddenly he feels severely underdressed. The people along the streets have their hair slicked and shiny, beads and feathers woven ornately into headbands and hats. They wear dresses that reach anywhere from ankle to knee to mid-thigh length decorated with tassels and sequins and all sorts of gilt that Shouyo had only imagined before. They wear crisp shirts and plated shoes that clink when they walk, with suspenders keeping their pants up and jackets slung over their shoulders in the balmy night air. Shouyo wears a pair of overalls over a collared shirt, and a snug, cracked leather cap.

People stare at him, shaving away a few milliseconds of their time to glance at the novelty of a scrawny Genesis miner kid pushing a cart twice his weight down the bumpy sidewalk. He grips the handle on his cart and pushes along, sticking his chest out to look like he knows what he’s doing. The cart rattles along the sidewalk, and pedestrians give him a rather wide berth. The metallic goods inside shake and shudder against the plastic walls of the cart, and the latch bounces around, never quite sticking in place.

Grinding to a stop at an intersection, Shouyo squints up at the bright signs, searching for the sign reading _Chikyuu Marketplace_. It’s no use. Too many colors to make out anything coherent. And no one around him looks like they have any time to be stopped and asked for directions. It looks like they’ll sweep him up in a whirlwind of glitz and color if he tapped someone on the shoulder. He’s like a fish out of water, floundering around on the shore, plucked straight from his element and dropped into a foreign world with too much light and too many colors.

“’Scuse me, sir, can I help you?”

Shouyo jumps at the sound of a voice. A blonde woman in a trim officer’s uniform blinks at him with big, startled brown eyes, clutching her tablet to her chest. Composing himself, Shouyo straightens up and brings himself to his full (unimpressive) height. “Y-yes!” His voice comes out high, and he clears his throat before continuing, “I’m looking for Chikyuu—”

“Ah!” The officer interrupts, excited to know something right offhand. Her accent is the same as the ones actors on TV have. “I can show you the way— Are you a merchant?”

Shouyo puffs his chest. “I am!” He gestures to his rickety cart with a look of pride. The officer smiles widely and taps at her tablet.

“Is this your first time in the city?” The officer asks politely, tucking a strand of straw colored hair behind her ear. Shouyo flushes darkly.

“I-is it that obvious?” He sputters, looking down at his clothes. They’re too rural—overalls? No one in the entirety of New Tokyo was wearing overalls, probably. Hastily, he pulls off his cap and stuffs it into his back pocket, leaving his hair a puffy halo of orange. The officer shakes her head quickly.

“Not at all! Well, actually—yes, kind of. You just look… lost, sort of,” She says, glancing around the street. Shouyo burns with embarrassment.

 “I—I don’t have a phone, and no one sells paper maps anymore,” He mumbles, stuffing his hands in his pockets. The officer blinks slowly, like she’s confused, and then snorts. Shouyo, mortified, attempts to defend himself. “They’re confusing! And I can’t afford one, because we missed the last two market weeks and—”

“No, I wasn’t laughing at that! It’s just—” The officer looks around, as if to make sure the coast is clear, then leans in as if she’s telling Shouyo a big, scandalous secret. “I don’t have one, _either_!”

Shouyo blanks for a moment. Then he laughs. Then the officer is laughing, and they’re both doubled over, giggling until their eyes fill with tears.

 “ _Yachi-kun!_ ”

The officer bolts upright so fast that Shouyo swears he can hear her spine pop. Shouyo, still gasping between bouts of laughter, uses his cart to prop himself unsteadily upright. Blinking away tears, he peers behind the officer—Yachi?—at the owner of the sharp voice.

He’s tall, his uniform is crisp with creases that could cut paper, and he’s got a look on his face that reminds Shouyo of sour milk. He marches over to the pair menacingly. If looks could kill, Shouyo thinks.

“A-ah, Kageyama-kun!” Yachi spins around, arms stiff at her sides. She looks like she’s in the presence of a superior, but Shouyo can’t see any distinction between their uniforms. They have the same shade of deep blue coats, the same shiny white epaulettes, the same fist-sized silver badge on their breast pocket.

“What are you doing?” Tall, dark, and terrifying asks.

Yachi points to Shouyo, like she finally has a reason for dawdling. Unfortunately for Shouyo, that reason is him. “This merchant was lost, so I was giving him directions and—”

“How do you know he’s a merchant?” Officer Kageyama asks coolly. Yachi’s face falls.

Shouyo stammers to defend himself. “Hey, now—”

“Just because he’s got a cart? He’s _Genesis_. He could be smuggling drugs or illegals in. Did you even check inside it? Did you check to see if he has ID? Did you even see if he has a merchant’s pass?” Kageyama’s words are harsh, but Shouyo can’t detect any real contempt behind it. Kageyama says everything like it’s a fact. Still, the way he said _Genesis_ really rubs Shouyo the wrong way. Shoving past Yachi, he tries to make himself bigger. To a bystander, it appears much like a tiny fledgling trying to fluff up his feathers in front of a fully-grown bird.

“I’ll have you know that I’ve got nothing but legal goods in this cart! And my identification checks out fully, for your information. Yachi-san was just giving me directions,” Shouyo tries to get his entire spiel out in one breath, but Kageyama stares daggers and Shouyo doesn’t have knife-proof skin. “S-so, don’t get mad at her,” He finishes, rather lamely.

Kageyama doesn’t look pleased. Yachi and Shouyo hold their collective breath. Kageyama opens his mouth, like he’s going to say something, but hesitates. A look of unease flashes over his cool face, and when he finally speaks, he sounds just a bit less collected. “Just—get to work, both of you,”

Yachi salutes stiffly, and Shouyo, afraid of accidentally being rude by not following city customs, follows suit. Kageyama looks disgusted as he turns around and marches back the way he came. Yachi exhale and closes her eyes, clutching her chest like she’s trying to keep her heart inside.

“Geez, what’s that guy’s problem?” Shouyo asks after a beat of silence. Yachi waves the question off.

“He’s a prodigy. He aced all of the tests in the Royal Police’s academy, both physical and academic. He’s at the top of the class,” She sighs with the look of someone who’s resigned to _not_ being at the top of the class. “He’s born for this job. Not like me. I don’t even know why I’m doing this job in the first place. I’m no good at it—”

Shouyo puts his hand on Yachi’s shoulder, effectively cutting her off. She jumps from the contact, startled like she’d forgotten he was there. “Who cares?”

Yachi blinks again. Shouyo grins brightly and continues, “Who cares about that guy? He’s good, but you got the job too! So you’ve got to be good at it.”

Yachi’s face lights up. “I-I guess you’re right… Yeah! You are right!”

“Yeah!” Shouyo agrees.

“I’m good!”

“You’re good!”

“I’m a cop!”

“You’re a cop!”

“And I know the way to Chikyuu!”

“And you’re gonna show me!”

“And I’m gonna show you!”

“Yeah!”

“Let’s go!” Yachi says, pumped now and drunk of a newfound wave of confidence, struts down the street, tapping on her tablet. Shouyo shoves his cart into motion behind her, grinning widely. “What’s your merchant ID number? Not that I doubt you or anything—it’s just, I really am supposed to check on the credibility of merchants,”

“It’s, um, LG-010. Under ‘ _Hinata_ ’. Row K, booth 11,” Shouyo says, struggling to get his cart over a bump in the pavement. Yachi scrambles to help, tucking her tablet into a back pocket and hefting one end up of the cart and over the tiny ledge.

“Oh, cool! You’re from Leta Genesis! That’s why Kageyama-kun called you a Genesis! You don’t look like them, at least not the ones I’ve seen,”  

“We don’t all look alike, you know,” Shouyo says, a bit uncomfortable with the course of the conversation.

“Well, yeah, I know—but I mean, aren’t you all related? I read in the newspaper that you guys marry your cousins and such,” Yachi continues, unaware. Shouyo’s eyebrows raise in shock and his stomach churns.

“What?! No! That’s not—that’s _gross_!” He insists, forcing an easygoing laugh. Suddenly, all he can think of is his father speaking to his mother in hushed tones in the kitchen, quiet enough that he has to put his ear to the wall to listen: _“Those people up in New Tokyo’ll never see us as anything other than dirty hillbilly Genesis.”_

“Oh, I’m sorry! These days, you never know what to believe. What about the rivers? I went to Leta Genesis on vacation when I was little—a resort, I think—and I remember swimming in the rivers. They were so pretty! Do you swim in any of the rivers?” Yachi asks, gearing away from newspaper rumors. Shouyo gratefully pounces on the change of subject matter.

“Oh yeah! On weekends, in the afternoon when work’s finished, I take my little sister swimming. She likes to catch salamanders and such and race them with the other kids, but I just like to splash around. She’s a lot better swimmer than me,” Shouyo says, taking a left at Yachi’s gesticulation.

“You have a little sister? That’s so cool! I wish I had a little sister. I’ve always wanted one. But I think a little brother would be cool, too. Or a little anything. A little sibling would be awesome,” Yachi muses, helping to guide the cart around a pothole. “My parents were gonna adopt a Genesis kid when I was ten, but didn’t have the money,” Shouyo forces another laugh, and that squirming discomfort burrows into his chest again. Shaking the feeling off, he smiles again and asks Yachi questions about the city.

“Why are there people in tents outside that stadium?”

“Oh, there’s probably a concert tonight? Or, they might actually be homeless.”

“Oooh, what’s that castle-looking building?”

“The library! There’s a really scary-looking librarian there, but he’s actually really nice. Oh, if that’s the library, then we should be getting close. Keep a lookout for a sign for the marketplace.”

“Gotcha. What about that building, with all the flashy lights?”

“That’s the Cat’s Cradle—it’s a nightclub, I think, and a gambling parlor. I-I’m not really sure,” Yachi says hastily, but there’s an edge to her voice that makes Shouyo think that she actually _is_ sure, though before he can press it, she quickly changes the subject by pointing at a large, ornate green street sign reading _Chikyuu Marketplace_. “Ah, look! There it is!”

Thoughts of the Cat’s Cradle push themselves out of his head, replaced with a wave of giddy excitement and nervous energy. “Awesome! Thank you so much, Yachi-san!”

Yachi thrusts her chest out proudly, accomplished. “Here, hold on—” she types something into her tablet, which vibrated and beeped, and spat out a small slip of paper. _Parking Notice_ , the slip reads, along with some tiny print that Shouyo can’t read without getting closer. Flipping the paper over, she produces a slim pen from her pocket and scribbles something down on it. “That’s my apartment’s phone number—my roommate might answer; just tell her you’re looking for me. If you run into any trouble, give me a call!”

Shouyo stuffs the paper into his overall pocket and grins widely at his new friend. “It was nice to meet you, Yachi-san!”

“It was nice to meet you, too, Hinata-kun! I’m glad I could help you, and I hope you have good luck selling!” Yachi says, tucking her tablet into her coat and smiling brightly before making her way across the street. Once she’s across, she waves, and Shouyo waves back with twice as much enthusiasm.

Taking a deep breath and turning away, Shouyo pushes his cart down Chikyuu Street, looking at the vendors beginning to set up their stalls for the next day. He had memorized his booth number before he even set out for New Tokyo. _Row K, booth number 11._ The streets between the stalls are empty of pedestrians. Probably on account of the merchants not actually having opened their stalls yet. The official Market Week doesn’t start until tonight at midnight, nearly four hours away, and the police strolling between stalls are there to make sure no funny business goes on.

Shouyo trudges on, weaving through the crowds of merchants and police until the dented sign reading _Row K_ surfaces from the sea of people. It doesn’t take him long—at least he has a low-numbered booth, close to the street entrance, more likely to sell to tourists looking for souvenirs.

The booth is metal, worn from years of use and too many coats of paint, and the cart fits neatly underneath. There’s no chair, but that’s alright, because Shouyo prefers to stand anyway. Rooting around in his overall pocket, he feels for the thin, shiny merchant’s ID and the square electronic lock given to him by a stuffy Merchants Council representative upon his arrival at the New Tokyo tele-station. Positioning the lock on the doors of his cart, Shouyo eases himself to the ground with his back to the cart, crosses his arms, and closes his eyes.

On the other side of the city, someone is just waking up, their golden eyes lazily following a television program projected into the air in front of them. They lounge on a lavish sofa in an even more lavish parlor, and their cell phone vibrates on the coffee table in front of them. A hologram of the message materializes into the air over the phone:

_id number: LG-010—Hinata_

_row k, booth 11_

_the crow is nested_

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so ??? i've had this idea for months and it's finally manifested and it's gonna be a fun ride. This chap was basically all expo but next chapter i'm hoping?? for plot?? mAybe?? 
> 
> Genesis, or Native Genesis, are the native dominant lifeforms of the small mining planet Leta Genesis. They don't look like humans, but physical descriptions will come later as they're needed in the story. Humans aren't super fond of them because their planet is mostly rural and thus Genesis are kind of behind on the evolutionary ladder.


End file.
